


lost and found

by Lee_Mix



Series: lost and found families [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adopted Children, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Mix/pseuds/Lee_Mix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Children aren’t there to be broken by their parents. They’re here so we can be the making of them.” - Tom Dupain-Cheng has some strong choice words for Gabriel Agreste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost and found

**Author's Note:**

> So. Who else really doesn’t like Gabriel Agreste? I’ll say it plain now: parents who abandon their kids for no reason REALLY don’t sit well with me. I don’t care if your wife dies/goes missing/whatever. I don’t care if you have a busy job. If you don’t try and keep SOME contact with your child alive and healthy, then fuck you. This is just a spin on that. Hope you enjoy! Additional notes: I am in NO way trying to say that, in show-verse, Gabriel is emotionally abusive. But I do NOT tolerate negligence in any way. This is just a somewhat exaggerated version of events. Also, if you’d like, keep the theory of “Gabriel is Hawkmoth” in mind. Might add more to the story.

There’s silence in the air when the dust clears, and when you see your little girl up there.

A moment ago, she was the Ladybug. The little darling heroine of Paris, famed for her adventurous and rebellious acts of altruism. Clad in red-and-black, ready to sacrifice her life to let the people of Paris live lives untainted by whatever supernatural happenings were amidst and leeching off of your city.

Now, she’s hanging her head in shame, refusing to look at you or your wife. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she says, and whatever anger bubbled up inside you is screaming for you to forget it exists. “Papa, Mama, I-I’m sorry.”

The young boy–Adrien, you believe–puts a firm hand on her shoulder. He stares at you, begging with his eyes to  _understand._ It takes you a moment when you realise this boy speaks more of your daughter’s mind with that pleading gaze than her own  _voice_ , and in that time Sabine has already rushed forward to capture Marinette in that familiar embrace that you fell for long ago.

Whatever she’s whispering into your daughter’s hair, is something between the two of them. You wait for your moment to arrive, and in that time, Adrien has already distanced himself from Marinette.

 _Where are **your** parents? Why are they not here, worried about you, too? _You think, concerned as you watch the boy stick his hands in his pockets and scuff the ground with his shoe, and for a moment you think he might sink back into the shadows.  

“Papa…?” 

The familiarity of that timid voice draws you back into the world of reality, and your strong Marinette is standing before you, shaking and shivering with tears  _glistening_ in those beautiful eyes.

It’s when you realise she’s  _scared_ of what you’ll think of her that makes you sick to your stomach, and pull her into a tight hug. If there are words you need to say to her, they’re long since lost in her blubbering apologies that you find you’re too choked up about to refute.   


* * *

  
People always speak of the calm before the storm, but you’d rather settle for a simple breath of fresh air to fill your lungs with relief after it has passed. 

The four of you (well, six, if including… the fairy and the floating cat) sit in a corner of your bakery, and they begin to spin their tale like it was straight out of a book.

The battles of corrupted emotions taken advantage of by a thousand years worth of lives riddled with grief and incapability of letting go; the discovery of their identities; the angst and anguish of lying; the  _numerous_ apologies; and the unsettling tension that it’s not  _over_ yet.

You don’t know what to think. A few thoughts scream in your head.  _Why was she chosen to be the one to face such dangers? Why couldn’t you pick someone older, more experienced with how this cruel world works?_ But no questions are appropriate. Because your daughter has made up her mind, and nothing you could ask could change it.

“Are you… are you two alright with it?”

Sabine answers for you before you can argue. “Marinette, how could we  _possibly_ be okay with the two of you risking your lives? You’re still so young.” She cups Marinette’s cheek. “But there’s no choice, is there? You said so yourself: you two have to do this.”

“Y-Yeah.” She breathes, and you don’t know if she’s relieved or  _terrified._ “A-Adrien’s been helping me. I’m not doing this alone.”

You can’t help but notice the way the boy flinches when the subject diverts to him. The slight tremble of his fingers around the cup of tea he’s been staring at. 

_You’ve barely said a word all day._

“There’s that, I suppose. At least you were not alone in all of these fights. But that begs the question; what about you, Adrien?” Sabine’s voice is like the sun, talking to him as if he is her  _own_ child. Your stomach turns as Adrien flinches from the warmth in her voice. “Do your parents know about any of this? Why were you on your own tonight, sweetheart?”

He pales. You know little about the Agreste family aside from their exploits in the fashion industry, but you _know_ the nature of children. Something in the way his eyes rim red and his mouth gapes isn’t…  _natural._

“I-I…”

You never heard the answer to that question, and the numerous black cars that pull up outside the bakery drown out any hope of deciphering it. 

Clad in black and white suits, several figures march straight into the bakery, surrounding a man dressed in white. Adrien’s face matches the colouration straight away, and he stiffens in his seat.

“Pardon the intrusion, sir. But I am here to retrieve up my son.”

_Retrieve?_

“D-Dad–”

“Be quiet.” The look in his eyes renders Adrien silent. “We will talk about this later, Adrien. After the stunt you pulled today, there is no use trying to explain yourself.”

“H-Hold on, you can’t just talk to him like that!”

All eyes turn to Marinette as she stands from her seat. 

“I imagine your parents have words for you as well, young lady.” Gabriel barely even  _looks_ at her. “Save yourself any further embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment?” Marinette’s face goes red, and she stands firm. Like a rock against the tide. “We…your son and I just helped me to save  _Paris!_ We’ve been  _saving_ Paris together for almost a year! You can’t just treat him like a kid who’s snuck out to… to cause trouble!”

“M-Marinette.” Adrien tugs at her sleeve and shakes his head in resignation. “There’s no point in arguing with him. Just stop, please.”

The look in his eyes made her falter. “But…”

“You’d do well to listen to my son, young lady.”

You know that look in her eye. She’s stuck between a turbulent storm and the mouth of a forest fire. Either way, each experience will mark her mind with the scars of _what if_. Yet, she doesn't argue with him, and she doesn't cause the situation to escalate even further. Instead, Marinette simply complies with Adrien's request, taking a firm seat at his side. You have to give her credit for the small rebellion she still has when she takes his hand and holds it tight, staring the older man right in the eyes.

“I am terribly sorry my son burdened you tonight.” Gabriel Agreste turns his attention toward you and your worried wife, with a look that says  _annoyance_ more than  _remorse._ “I assure you he won’t be dragging your daughter into any more dangerous situations again. It appears I have allowed him to grow too careless and rebellious for his own good.”

_…What?_

“Public schooling obviously was a bad step forward. Maybe it’s time for those home-schooling lessons to be put back into place.”

Adrien’s eyes widen. “D-Dad, no, y-you can’t–!”

“Don’t argue, Adrien. You’re in enough trouble tonight.”

The list goes on and on, and it’s grating on your mind until your brain is left bleeding from the effects. The way this boy is shrinking back into his seat reminds you of a small child, then a fifteen-year-old growing into the early stages of adulthood. He’s wilting in front of you, and whilst he’s not  _your_ son, he’s kept your daughter safe in the insanity that is this entire situation. 

More than that, though, he’s a  _boy_ being humiliated by his own  _father._

“That’s  _enough._ ”

The way you stand and loom over the man is like a bear over a mere rabbit, and you give the older man credit for  _not_ flinching in his boots. 

“You wish for me to reprimand him outside instead? That can be done.”

“No.” There’s no point raising your voice. You can’t give a man like  _him_ the satisfaction. “I want for you to stop  _punishing_ you son, and ask him if he’s  _alright._ All you’ve done since you’ve seen him is humiliate him. Are you concerned about him other than the fact it reflects poorly on your parenting skills?”

For the first time this evening, Gabriel Agreste is shocked into silence. 

“Take a look at your son. Your boy. He doesn’t see you as a  _father._ He’s  _terrified_ of you. Doesn’t that sicken you?”

“He knows authority. I am merely exercising–”

“ **Authority**?” Your voice raises a little now. A simple baker you may be, it has the figures in suits looking uncomfortable. Good. This is your family’sterritory, and they shouldbe afraid if they let a  _child_ go through this sort of treatment without a single word. “You’re his  _father._ You shouldn’t have authority over him, you should be  _guiding_  him. When was the last time you had a conversation with him that was about anything other than him being a disappointment? Do you even  _see_ your son?”

“Mr. Dupain, I would strongly advise you to change your tone. I wouldn’t want for you to end up spending the night in a  _cell._ ”

“Legal matters, hm?” The mere thought causes you to laugh. “Well. How about the  _emotional negligence and abuse of a child?_ Sounds like a good reason for  _you_ to spend the night in a cell, Mr. Agreste.”

Silence sweeps across the bakery. You know you’ve probably leapt headfirst into the fire after that threat, but you’ve got no regrets. You’re not letting this boy leave until he knows  _someone_ would speak up for him. That someone cares just  _because._

Sabine and you will probably argue about this later on when the reality dawns on the both of you. For now, though, she grips onto your arm and matches your raging fire with her chilling silence.

“Children aren’t here to be  _broken_ by their parents, Mr. Agreste _._ They’re here so we can become the  _making_ of them.” You clap a hand to the shoulder of Adrien, and he’s shaking like a leaf. “You’ve got a wonderful boy here, sir. Shouldn’t you treasure that?”

Gabriel Agreste stiffens. 

 _Please._ You’re begging in your head.  _Let go of your pride. LOOK at your son. Look at what you’re doing to him, what you’ve already done. It’s not too late to try and fix things._

“…”

“Dad?”

“I want no part in this life of yours, Adrien.”

_No._

Adrien begins to wilt. 

“But I can see you don’t want to give it up. We are at a crossroads.”

The boy can’t speak.

_Don’t do this to him. Don’t force him to choose._

“What matters more to you? Your family name or your schoolyard romance?”

You glance over at Marinette.  _Is that all you see her as?_

“I-It’s not just that, Dad. That’s not just what this is.” You don’t miss the way he’s blushing. But he’s speaking up for himself, and your pride in him only carries on as he refuses to be quiet.  “I…I need to stay as Chat Noir. I  _need_ to do this.  _We_ need to do this. Marinette and I, we’re the only ones who  _can_.”

Gabriel Agreste lowers his head. “I see.”

_Don’t abandon him. Don’t do this to him._

“I cannot accept this, Adrien.”

The boy begins to crumble.

“But perhaps there are those of us who can.”

He turns to you, and your wife, and stares at you with more emotion you thought possible for a phantom made of ice. “You accept this about your daughter. My son will not give this up. But it appears I will not be the making of my son. Perhaps  _you_ could be.”

“What?” Sabine lets go of your arm. “What on  _Earth_ are you saying?”

“Take my son into your care.”

_You say that so simply. Like he’s just…_

“Dad? Wh-what are you…?”

_…something to be passed around, and you’re not even looking at him._

“What?” Sabine repeats, and her hands go to hold onto Adrien’s shoulders. 

“I will pay for any expenses, of course. But it appears that living in his previous residence is…” For a moment, he falters. Emotion overtakes him. “Not beneficial, for either of us. Perhaps it would do him some good to remain here with you.”

“You’re asking us to take on your _child_? Just like that?” Your wife is teary-eyed. Confused.  _Why_ would anyone willingly give up their child like this? Such a thought would be foreign to her, yet terrifyingly familiar. “That… he is your son! You can’t just…!”

 _“Adrien. It'll be okay._ ” Marinette whispers softly, and the boy has his head on her shoulder. They’re stronger together than you and Sabine have ever been, and you don’t know if that’s scaring you or delighting you.

But this offer is the boy’s only way out. 

_You’ve got a chance to save this one, even if it’s not a happy ending. But it’s a working ending toward him being safe._

“Sabine, do you have any objections?”

She sighs, and squeezes Adrien’s shoulders gently. “A million why this is wrong. But they are  _nothing_  to do with this boy not being welcome here.”

“Adrien.” You kneel in front of the boy, and he looks at you with the first ounce of strength since his father  _publicly disowning_ him. “Are you going to be okay with this? I promise you I won’t let you suffer, and you’ll be welcome for as long as you want. But is this something you don’t mind?”

_What other choice does he have?_

“I-I…want to.” He sighs and sits up. “What else have I got to lose?”

Gabriel’s eyes show hurt.

_Good._

“Then we accept. But understand  _this,_ Mr. Agreste.”

When you grab his collar and lift him into the air, gasps overtake the silence.

“If you  _ever,”_ you hiss. “Try and hurt this young man again, or humiliate him like you did tonight, you will have to answer  _to me.”_

 

* * *

 

The first night Adrien was there, he slept in Marinette’s room, but spent half the night sobbing.

Things weren’t as easy as portrayed in the films. Taking one child out of an environment and into another wasn’t a happy thing. Adrien, in spite of everything,  _missed_ his father. He would swallow back the tears of being in unfamiliar warmth, constant reminders hanging over him that he was  _abandoned._ Simply left in the care of the parents of the girl he loved. 

There will be arguments, frustrations, and guilt, by both parties.

But in the middle of the muddle, came a boy blooming.

“Um. Mr. Dupain?”

You look up from your newspaper, and Adrien is hovering in the doorway, rubbing his arm. Four months into him living with you, and he  _still_ hasn’t dropped the habit of formality. 

“Mm?” You put down your newspaper, and he wades inside. “Is everything alright?”

“Can I talk to you?”

You gesture over to the other seat, and he perches on the end of it. Sometimes, you have to wonder if you’ve adopted a stray cat, rather than taken in a teenager.

Whatever he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue. Adrien’s nervous, feet tapping against the floor, one hand behind his back. But you can’t push. Only wait for him to be ready.

He’s not  _your_ son, you have to remind yourself.

“You, uh, you didn’t have to take me in. After everything my Dad said, I mean.” Adrien clears his throat to hide a nervous laugh. “I just… I want you to know that I  _do_ appreciate everything you said back then, and everything you and Sabine have done for me, and I know there’s no way I can ever pay you back, I…”

He’s rushing, embarrassed, and it’s nothing like the cool, polite boy that Marinette gushed over before everything. There’s a hint of a smile to know how utterly  _ridiculous_ the nerves are. 

“Thank-you.” 

It’s a simple end, and something in both of you is released.

“Hm.” You stroke the tip of your bearded chin, and grin. “A little formal, I suppose, but you are welcome, Adrien. Still, you do seem awkward around Sabine and I. Even now, I can tell you still feel like you are not welcome here, despite it being the opposite. I think it’s time we fixed that, don’t you?”

He blinks at you, confused. “I… suppose so.”

You grin. “Do you know much about baking, Adrien?”

He scratches the back of his head. “I never really had the chance to learn, My… my Mom did, though.”

You soften a little. “Would you like to learn?”

Something in his eyes is shining. “Yes! I-I mean,” he shrinks into his shoulders. “Yes, please.”

“You’re allowed to be excited. God knows Marinette can be.”

He laughs a little at that.  _Good._

If you have your way, there’ll be more of that laughter to come for the rest of his life. bout 

“Perhaps if we get a little less awkward.” A small bout of teasing overcomes you, one you cannot resist. “You’ll be less inclined to hover around Marinette. Unless there happens to be  _another_ reason you like my daughter’s company?”

“I.” He flushes red and squirms in his seat. “Uh. Maybe? I-I mean, she’s good company, uh… good. Yeah.”

Although you’ll tease him more about it in the future, and most likely get a flustered lecture from your daughter to leave him alone, there is truth to it.

He’s a good young man blooming. Who else would be better for his little ladybug than someone she trusts?


End file.
